Training Camp
by FishyFloat
Summary: NHL Training Camp seemed like a complete waste of time for the ducks. Still, this was something Phil said they had to do in order to join the league. Wildwing had agreed, knowing the humans would be skeptical of their ability to play. 7/01- Duke and Mallory get their turn
1. Goalie

**AN:** Silly youtube videos, always giving me inspiration, yet distracting from War of the Oranges! This story will eventually cover all six of the ducks, but you get Wildwing for now. I'm using this to explore hockey rules and culture, writing game scenes, and figuring out team interactions early on in the series. This takes place during First Face Off Part 2, before the team is accepted into the NHL.

* * *

The Aerowing slowly came in to land in the parking lot of Throne Arena, home of the Los Angeles Crowns. One man stood near the entrance of the arena, waiting to greet the new team. Several camera crews from local stations and sports channels were corralled behind metal barriers.

Camera flashes and calls from the reporters greeted the ducks as the ramp in the front of the Aerowing lowered and the team walked out with their manager in the lead. All of the ducks were in their new jerseys and each carried a large duffle bag with their equipment. Wildwing held his goalie pads over one shoulder, opting to don cumbersome protection once inside. Despite urging from the team, he refused to wear the Mask.

Phil walked up to a tall, thin man in his fifties. The head coach in charge of the training camp was average weight and height; his huge cheeks were his most defining feature. They bunched up into almost Santa-like apples when he smiled and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

The noisy reporters became even more raucous as the team neared them. Phil put his hands out in a quieting motion and they listened for a change. He decided to leave the newscasters be for now and introduce the team. After all, putting on a good show could bring a lot more publicity than straight up engaging the media.

"Guys, this is Coach Roy Sommer. Roy, I present to you, The Mighty Ducks," he introduced with a flourish.

Coach Sommer extended his hand in welcome and Wildwing shook it.

"Great to have you with us. So, you're from a planet where hockey is a main sport?"

"It's _the_ sport," Duke replied.

Wildwing smiled. "Yes. We appreciate you allowing us to participate in your camp. If you'll just explain how things are handled here a little, we'll try to adjust our playing styles to yours."

The human laughed. "No way! I don't want you guys adjusting anything. Play like you would at home. I'm interested to see how hockey is played on another planet."

"Well, technically, another universe," Tanya corrected.

"I still have problems wrapping my head around the fact that aliens are real," the coach said with a shake of his head. "So, where're your coaches and the rest of the team? This can't be all of you."

"Hey, you're looking at the full roster, Boobie."

"We each play multiple positions," Mallory added. "I'm an excellent forward and can handle right wing and center."

"We don't really have a coach." Wildwing looked a little concerned. He knew teams always played better with coaches, but he wasn't sure who he could trust to coach them.

"Who needs 'em?" Duke was quite casual about the unintended insult. "We can coach each other. Sides, I don't take too kindly to strangers tellin' me what to do."

"Okay then," Coach Sommer brushed off the rudeness. Ten years of coaching professional athletes had taught him to ignore the prima donna attitude many of them developed. "Let's head inside. I'll show you the locker rooms. Wildwing, is it?" He looked to the goalie for confirmation and continued when he received a nod. "You'll be training with the other goalies. They're doing off ice drills first, so you might want to change before joining them. The rest of you should join the others on the ice. We'll be getting started in about twenty minutes, so you should have some time to familiarize yourselves with the layout and other players."

0000

Wildwing had changed back into his green exercise pants and a white t-shirt before joining the other goalies in the weight room. Several were stretching, some were just standing around, waiting for the coach to show up.

"Hey," a man only slightly shorter than Wildwing greeted. "I'm Pat. Guess you're trying to join the league?"

"Something like that. I'm Wildwing."

"Interesting name," the bearded guy next to him said. "That what your parents named you?"

"Yes." Wildwing raised an eyebrow in confusion.

It didn't take very long for everyone to notice the duck in the room. The three goalies who had been stretching got up and walked over to join the others in a circle around the alien.

"So, what's your GAA?" The man asking didn't look much older than Nosedive. A small, black goatee nestled under his lower lip. His face was thin with an angular nose. Shaggy, black hair fell to about his ears. "Oh, I'm Jonas, by the way."

Wildwing thought about the question for a moment. He'd never played here on Earth, so he technically didn't have a goals against average rating here. He decided to respond with his average from Puckworld.

"About one point nine; but, it has been almost a year since I was in a league, so it might have gone up. My save percentage was point nine two one."

Pat whistled in amazement at the numbers. "You're pulling our legs."

A very tall, blond youth looked down slightly at Wildwing. The duck stood six foot one; this human was closer to six foot five. Despite his height, he had a much thinner build.

"Pekka," he introduced himself in a heavy accent Wildwing didn't recognize. "I think you are..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Making fun."

"All right! Pay attention, you lot," a harsh, loud voice broke in. The goalie coach was a middle aged woman, shorter than Mallory, but clearly with the same level of spunk. Her brown hair was close cropped. Black, knee length shorts showed off very muscular legs. She wore a long sleeved, black jacket and green tennis shoes. Cute, circular framed glasses perched on her small nose. "I'm Coach McKichan and I'll be evaluating your performances on and off the ice. Coach Sommer will be watching once we hit the ice. For now, I need you to all line up and start going through the ladder station." She pointed to two rope ladders on the floor and walked to the end of one. "You can use either ladder; it doesn't make any difference. What you're going to do is a pivot. Think glove hand," she crouched in the typical goalie ready position and held up her right hand as if she were wearing a catching glove. "Stick hand," her left hand moved a little out to the side, pretending to hold a stick. "And you're going to pivot through," she instructed as she took small steps from side to side, pivoting to the right through the first step of the ladder and back towards the left for the second step. "You're not going to come up and down, you're going to stay in a nice reactive position. Stay low, nice and level, keeping your head up. Now, line up and get started. I want you to wait for the guy in front of you to reach the third pivot, then you go."

Wildwing fell into position and followed the instructions perfectly. Coach McKichan took notes on her clipboard, watching each player with a keen eye. She would occasionally stop someone, give them advice or further instruction, and scribble something in her notes.

After the general run through a metabolic circuit, strength training, and working with resistance bands, they had a small stretching cool down. It amazed the alien duck how similar drills and exercises were between the two worlds.

"Good. Next up, we have the balance and coordination; then, we'll have lunch, change, and hit the ice." The petite coach waved her assistants over. The two children pushed giant wheeled bins with large, brightly colored balls inside. They started pulling the balls out and rolling one towards each player.

Wildwing stared at the large, orange ball in front of him in confusion. What the feathers did this thing have to do with hockey? He looked to his side to see what the others were doing with them.

Pat and Pekka easily stepped up on the balls and balanced perfectly. Jonas had trouble getting the ball to stay put and Coach McKichan offered him a steadying hand while he got on.

Shaking his head in befuddlement, Wildwing put one foot on the orange balance ball and shifted his weight forward a little, expecting it to roll out from under him. When it seemed steady, he thrust his weight upwards, trying to get a small jump up so he could put his other foot on the ball. His momentum sent the ball rolling out from under him and the duck landed flat on his back, the orange monstrosity merrily bouncing to the other side of the room as laughter filled the gym.

"Ow," he groaned as he sat up.

"Here ya go!" One of the assistant boys brought the ball back. The young boy was about nine. He was wearing a blue and silver jersey with a picture of a crown on the front and a matching baseball cap.

"Thanks." Wildwing rubbed his sore backside as he stood. He was thankful for the hand offered by the youth as he once again tried to stand on the ball. Once both feet were firmly in place on the orb, he let go of the supporting hand and stood upright, finding his center of gravity.

"Never done this exercise before?" The corners of Coach McKichans mouth turned upwards in a suppressed smile. "Don't worry. It takes while for most players to get comfortable on the balance balls. Now," she held up three rubber balls the size of plums, "We're going to be working on balance and hand eye coordination." She easily stepped up on a purple balance ball and started juggling three of the rubber balls. "I want each of you to see how long you can go with this. You don't have to juggle if you don't want to; you can just toss them up and down. I want you to do this in the ready position, heals down, back straight, head up."

The two young boys walked down the line of players, handing them each as many of the rubber balls as they wanted.

Sighing, Wildwing took two. Juggling was one of his hidden talents, but he didn't feel like trying to stay upright and juggle at the same time. He tossed both up in the air at the same time and caught them easily. Despite being able to do the exercise, he felt completely ridiculous. Was he getting in shape for hockey or training for a circus?

0000

Lunch time went quickly. Wildwing had hoped all of the players would have lunch together and he would be able to see the other ducks, but it appeared that the goalies were to remain separated from the others until the end of the day.

Everyone bantered crazily in the locker room as they changed into their hockey gear and goalie pads.

"Get a new mask?" Pikka asked Pat.

"Yeah," Pat proudly held out the highly detailed silver mask. It was painted to resemble a knights helm with a crown set in base relief in the center of the brow. 'Quick' was embossed in bright silver, metallic paint on the chin.

"Looks nice," Pikka complimented as he removed his mask from his duffle bag. "But, mine is better." Pikkas birdcage mask was black with blue flames reaching from the face to the back. On the lower left was the Finnish flag, honoring his home country.

"How bout you?" Pat turned to Wildwing. "You have your mask painted up or anything special about it?"

"Yeah," Pikka added in his thick accent. "What your mask like, anyway?" He tapped his nose. "Hard to cover?"

Wildwing stared down at the purple and teal duffle bag at his feet. It was unzipped and he could easily see the two masks sitting in it. One was a basic burgundy helmet with a blue plexiglas visor he had sanded down to fit the contours of his beak; the other was the Mask of Drake DuCaine. His team wanted him to wear the white mask that was intended for a ducks face, but he didn't feel right using the sacred object. Besides, it wasn't his. He was just keeping it safe until they found Canard.

Pat watched the motionless duck stare into his duffle bag, Pikkas question remaining unanswered.

"Look, man, I'm sorry if this oaf offended you," Pat elbowed Pikka.

Wildwing tore his gaze from the duffle as he smiled at the two.

"No offense taken. My old mask is back on Puckworld. Masks there usually cover our beaks, but I haven't found anything here that works quite right." He pulled the burgundy mask from the duffle and started to zip it closed. "This one isn't anything special."

Pat caught a glimpse of a pearly white mask in the shape of the team logo in the bag as it was being closed. Why wouldn't the duck use that one? It looked like it was better suited to his face. If the team was using it as their logo, wouldn't it make sense for that one to be used in the game?

"Hope you had a good lunch," Coach Sommers greeted. "Cause I'm gonna work it out of you. Now, let's head out to the ice and start some drills. Some of you will join the other players and goal tend for their drills. At the end of the day, one of you will be up against the Mighty Ducks in a practice period. So you'd better perform at your best!"

Now this was what the goalie duck had been looking forward to. He placed the helmet on his head and followed the others out onto the ice. Time to show these guys some serious hockey.


	2. Left Wing

**AN: 06/24/2013** More training camp! I've had this sitting around for a bit, trying to flesh it out more. However, it seems like Nosedive is being stubborn and not talking at the moment. He won't tell me more about his first training camp experience than what I've got here! Guess I'll go have a chat with Mallory and Duke to see if they're a little more talkative...

* * *

Nosedive skated backwards on the ice, perfectly balanced on one leg before easily coming to a one leg stop. He pivoted around the other left wing who had been assigned to compete with him in a one on one skirmish, maneuvering the puck away from his opponent.

Showing off, Nosedive continued to skate backwards towards the goal, his eyes never leaving the humans.

Paul DeWeese, a left wing for the Los Angeles Crowns, was a good match for Nosedive. Although slightly taller and heavier, they were well matched for speed and dexterity with puck handling. The black and white jersey over his padding made him look much larger than he actually was, more like a 5' 12" hulk than a 5'10" athlete.

Despite being four years older than Nosedive, the human lacked the natural affinity for ice that the duck had. He hadn't grown up on a planet that practically required ice skates just to get from one house to the next. He had only decided hockey was his life when he turned sixteen.

Nosedive grinned and suddenly changed direction, forcing the human to give chase for the puck. He easily spun and twisted, stopping unpredictably, practically dancing around the human. Once he had the puck, there was almost no way for DeWeese to get it from him, despite the humans speed.

"Come on, man," DeWeese tried. "Let's actually play instead of goofing around."

"Who says I'm goofing off?" He slowed just a little bit, allowing his foe a small opening.

DeWeese moved closer, hoping to steal the puck, only to have Nosedive flip it in the air and balance it on the end of his stick. He continued to flip the puck and stick around, rotating and twisting it in the air, making the puck bounce and never allowing it to touch the ice.

Perturbed by the ease with which this strange alien handled the puck, DeWeese hit the ducks hockey stick with his own, finally knocking the puck away. It flew towards center ice, both DeWeese and Nosedive chasing it. DeWeese got there a split second ahead of his adversary and took control. He was determined to maintain possession of the puck after that little show the duck had put on. Completely focused on his task, he hurried towards the goal, Nosedive hot on his heels.

"Whoo-hoo!" Nosedive cheered as he again got in front of DeWeese and turned around to skate backwards once more. Smirking, he flipped his stuck upside down and tapped the ice with it in a classic Puckworld taunt.

DeWeese frowned, confused by what the duck was doing. On Earth, tapping the ice like that meant nothing.

Nosedive sighed and flipped the stick over again, easily snatching the puck once more. He spun around and wrist shot it into the net from center ice.

"Well, that was fun," Nosedive said, barely breathing hard. "Care to go again?"

"Stupid alien," DeWeese mocked. "You think that was a skirmish? Why don't you actually play the game instead of goofing off like a two year old?" He tried to get face to face with the duck and stare him down. That stupid beak kept him from getting as close to the ducks eyes as he wanted.

"Hey, I can't help it I'm better at this than you. Maybe if you'd practice some more, you might be able to catch me." Nosedive slowly backed away, completely ignoring the supposedly intimidating behavior.

That was it. DeWeese had a temper and the ducks arrogance was too much. He threw his gloves and stick to the ice, balling his hands into fists.

Nosedive just held onto his stick and watched the other left wings pitiful attempt at starting a fight. He'd been cautioned that humans considered brawling in hockey to be part of the game; the fans loved it and it let off steam during intense matches. Wildwing had warned against engaging anyone in a fistfight. They were guests on this planet and needed to maintain good relations. Yada, yada, yada. Nosedive didn't care what the humans thought, but he wanted his team to join the league and there was no way he was going to be the one that kept them out of it.

DeWeese moved forward, throwing a punch in Nosedive's direction. He easily dodged it, moving sideways. The irate left wing tried grabbing for Nosedive's jersey to hold him in place so he could land a punch.

Laughing, Nosedive started pulling DeWeese across the ice as if this were a game to him. Struggling to maintain his balance, hold on to the duck, and throw punches, DeWeese fell to the ice.

CHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP! A whistle interrupted them. Coach Wilson, a tall graying man who had played hockey professionally himself skated out to them.

"Break it up! DeWeese, fifty laps, now." He carefully studied the slightly shorter duck in front of him, not bothering to check if his order was being followed or not. "That was some impressive skating," he started. "But you're too much of a show off. Cool it and you might make it in the league."

"Thanks. Who am I up against next?" Nosedive was assuming this exercise to be an elimination round where each player faced off with others until only the best one was left on the ice.

"Nobody. Fifty laps for you too."

"What?" His voice rose in disbelief. "I didn't fight him."

"No, you just did your best to humiliate him in front of everyone else. Fifty laps, now." He turned on his skates and returned to the bench to send the next two players out for their skirmish while Nosedive and DeWeese circled the perimeter.


	3. Center and Right Wing

**AN:** 07/01/2013 More training camp! Dang, writing hockey scenes is challenging. I hope I don't bore you all with too many technical details! Like I said, I'm doing this to practice the best way to describe on-ice scenes as well as explore character interactions.

I have started a forum for Mighty Ducks discussions ( fanfiction dot net /forum/Mighty-Ducks-The-Animated-Series/135358/ ) and there is a thread with YouTube references that I use. (fanfiction dot net/topic/135358/90133458/1/YouTube-References ) Feel free to check it out if you'd like to see the actual drills and skills I mention in this bit of story.

Enjoy!

07/03- Fixed type-o's! I really gotta work on typing accuracy; I keep typing 'form' instead of 'from'

* * *

Duke and Mallory stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the professionals players and dozen AHL members who were trying to impress the LA Crowns and score a place on their roster for the upcoming season. Jordan Pierce, one of the goalies from the Barons, was in the crease. He would goal tend for both sides.

Duke lightly tapped Mallory's left skate with his stick.

"You're too tense. Loosen up in your turns," he suggested.

The red heads first reaction was to tell him off. She gave herself a second to consider the advice and nodded. After all, he was just trying to help improve her game.

"I know how to skate." This was extremely polite, considering what she really wanted to say.

"Suit yourself." He tensed up and turned the way she just had to show her what he meant. The move was effective, but not graceful. Pivoting to the other foot, he relaxed and turned the opposite direction, proving how a more relaxed stance would provide the same economy of movement with a touch more style and less energy expenditure.

Shaking her head, Mallory followed the rest of the players on the ice, willing herself to loosen up. She wouldn't admit it, but her muscles were in knots from stress.

_What I wouldn't give for a good massage after this is over_, she thought. _I wonder if Dr. Boulder is back at the Pond yet._

"All right," Coach Wilson got everyone's attention. "We're going to do the double pivot followed by cut and shoot drills. You ducks hang back and watch the rest, then follow along."

The players lined up into two groups and Mallory joined at the end of one line while Duke joined the other. Each line started on the wall edge of the left and right wing circles. A pile of pucks sat at the starting point for the drill- the two dash lines that indicated the face off positions. The first two trainees snagged pucks on their way towards the net, pivoted so they were skating backwards diagonally through the face off circle, and shifted their weight in a crossover to pivot again and skate forwards towards the goal. When in front of the goal, they each took a shot, trying to get the puck past Pierce. After their turn at the double pivot, the two players glided to the end of the line and the next two took their turn.

Mallory kept a careful eye on each human as they ran through the exercise. This was a simple drill for her; it was similar to a game children played in primary school to show off how quickly they could change direction and keep control of the puck. She wasn't memorizing the pattern; she was studying how the players moved and noting what received a nod from the coach or a slight misstep that added a scribbled note to the ever-present clipboard. Duke's line had one more player in it than hers, so she'd be going before him. Great, just what she needed. A human coach evaluating her performance and Duke watching to criticize her later. The redhead took a deep breath and shoved the annoyance down. She had dealt with people scrutinizing her every move for her whole life. This was no different.

The female duck quickly and efficiently ran through the double pivot drill, doing it much more swiftly and neater than any of her human counterparts.

"Not bad, sweetheart," Duke complimented as she passed him and he started his turn.

Mallory's eyes narrowed. Did he mean it or was he being facetious? That stupid accent of his made everything he said sound slightly condescending. She returned to the back of the line and watched as they started the next exercise, the cut and shoot.

Duke had been impressed with how Mallory handled the double pivot. She was clearly more skilled than any of the other players currently on the ice, with the exception of himself of course. They'd only been able to play together in one game back on Puckworld before going on their mission to destroy the master tower. At the time, it had been three on three with Wildwing in the net. Unless they found Canard or returned to Puckworld, they'd never have another all-duck three on three game again. The few practices they'd had together since coming to Earth hadn't been enough to give him an idea of the right wings full capabilities. It was nice, having this chance to watch his teammate with other players and evaluate how she could handle herself on the ice.

"Listen up!" Coach Wilson began. "We've had our play time with warm ups and drills. Now, let's do some two on two scrimmages! Good job, Pierce; get back to the goalies at the other end of the ice and send the next guy for the crease." He turned and looked each of the centers and right wings in the eye. "Petroya, Simmons, you're on one team. Duke, Gene, you're the other. Each side scores a goal, then rotates out when I say."

Each player skated to the ice and took position as their name was called. Duke thought it odd that they had chosen to split the players up like this. Why had they divided the left wings out from the rest of the forwards? Maybe it was because they were mostly a crazy bunch of lefties?

Duke glared at Petroya, his opponent center, intimidating him. Some people thought the eye patch meant he was blind on one side, a mistake which he took full advantage of. Others feared the menacing appearance of his facial scars, which he also used to his benefit.

The blond human returned the glare, trying his best to hide his apprehension of being paired against the duck. He was one of the professional players, practically assured of a place on the roster for the Crowns in the next season, and used to being around daunting athletes. This guy, however, was a whole new level of intimidation.

Neither one took their eyes off the other as they waited for Coach Wilson to drop the puck. Although he was staring his adversary in the eye, Duke kept his attention focused on the refs hand, waiting for the twitch that would precede the drop of the puck. When it came, he reacted instantly, pushing Petroya's stick out of the way and using his body to shove the human back while kicking the puck towards Gene.

Gene, a rookie player, should have expected Duke to pass the puck back to him, but didn't. Despite the puck being neatly aimed right for his stick, he failed to take control of it and Simmons snatched it away. The two right wings fought over the puck valiantly, but were interrupted by the two centers joining in. Duke reached his stick into the mess and pushed the puck away, sending it skidding across the ice and towards the boards. He smoothly followed it, not overexerting himself and letting the humans pass him up and brawl over the disc. Rather than join in on the madness, he chose to sit back and observe, occasionally jumping in to snatch the puck and send it elsewhere for the silly humans to chase.

"Come on, Duke," Gene pleaded. "Let's actually try scoring!"

"Eh, I think this is more fun," the duck chuckled as he again pulled the puck away from Petroya. This time, he feigned drop passing it back to Gene and bounced it off his back skate to return it to the end of his stick. Standing fully upright, he smoothly sailed past the two opposing humans and headed for the net. He sensed Simmons coming up fast on his right, trying to sneak in on the perceived blind spot. Just before the human could check him, Duke stopped and pivoted behind him in a neat circle, leaving the human right wing to fall in an undignified pile on the ice. Trying to give the rookie a chance, he shot the puck back to Gene, only to see him miss it again.

"Ya gotta pay attention, kid!" Duke scolded. "I'm signaling where the pucks going every time and ya keep missing it."

"Sorry." Gene turned red. "I guess I just can't read you."

"I'm the only one out here you've got to read. How the feathers do you handle five other players?" He tried to remain calm, but his annoyance with the young human crept into his voice. Sighing, he returned his attention to Petroya and Simmons. They were passing the puck back and forth, trying to avoid being an easy target for the expert duck and make it to the net. Petroya took his shot but was blocked by Deke, the new goalie, who sent it left of the net.

Duke picked up the loose puck and skated towards center ice, trying to avoid Simmons and Petroya. They followed his lead and left the net, each player trying to flank him and steal the puck. He carefully avoided their sticks and maneuvered the puck around them, skating straight for the goal.

He wasn't surprised to see Deke intently watching his every move. Deciding to throw a little flare into his performance, Duke kept the puck moving from side to side, from skate blade to stick, never giving the goalie a chance to anticipate where the shot would go. He pulled back and faked a high shot, barely skimming the top of the puck. Deke slid to the right, glove out and ready to catch the puck at shoulder height. Swiftly pulling his stick back again, Duke made his actual shot, aiming the puck at the wide open left side of the net.

"Nice move," Deke praised as he stood and looked over his shoulder. Yes, the disc was inside the net. Shaking his head, he smiled as he fished the puck out and sent it back out onto the open ice.

Duke nodded, but said nothing, gliding around the net and back towards the faceoff circle. He could see Mallory watching him from the bench. She shrugged a little, brushing off his skillful play. Her body language may have said she wasn't impressed, but her eyes spoke differently.

"Duke, Simmons, you're off," Coach Wilson barked. "Mallory, Sisson, you're up next."

Mallory hopped over the barrier from the bench and joined the three humans on the ice. Since Simmons was the right wing who had been called off, she took his place behind Petroya. The avian hockey player had learned much by scrutinizing Duke's scrimmage. She'd noticed that humans tended to signal where they were sending the puck or where they were going with their heads and eyes. Kind of silly, considering how obvious the signals were to a trained observer. Ducks would signal their teammates by subtly gesturing with their shoulders. Rather than run into the same problem as Duke, she made an effort to accommodate her body language to Petroya.

Sisson, the new center on the ice, won the face off and tried the same move as Duke, passing the puck back to Gene. This time, Gene took possession and moved to the left. Mallory was hot on his tail, waiting for her chance to try her hand at Duke's former profession and steal the puck.

"Back off, Witch," Gene growled. He'd had enough of ducks showing him up on the ice.

"What'd you call me?" His comment instantly ignited her temper and Mallory checked him hard before hitting the puck back toward Petroya.

"I said you're a witch," he sneered. "Stupid ducks. Your team's so pathetic they have to let girls play."

"I'll show you how girls play!" She cut in front of him, tripping him up and sending him sprawling. Having successfully put him at her feet, where he belonged and should stay if he had any sense, she turned her attention back to the game.

Petroya was in front of the net and took his shot, only to have Deke catch it in his glove. The goalie tossed the puck back out and towards the right. Petroya picked it up again and nodded to Mallory, who was behind the net.

Sighing at the overly obvious gesture, she gave a sharp nod and reversed her direction to position herself to the right of the net. Petroya sent the puck her way and she quickly bounced it towards the goal. Again, Deke stopped the puck. Suddenly, Mallory was plowed into Deke as Gene shoved her from behind.

"Hey! Get this duck outta my crease," Deke joked as he smiled and tried to help her up.

Mallory glared at him and jerked her arm away before leaving the blue semi-circle. She spun around to see Gene smirking. Deke pushed the puck towards Mallory, who instantly snatched it up with her stick. She skated towards Gene, keeping the puck moving left and right, tightly controlling it in front of her then moving it wider and keeping it to the right.

Gene advanced on the duck, ready to take her out again and try stealing the puck. What a stupid girl, she was bringing it right to him! He powered forward, aiming his shoulder towards her chest for an open ice check. Unfortunately, she'd been anticipating the move and spun around him, sending one foot in front of his to trip him up.

The redhead laughed as she once again sent the bumbling rookie to the cold, hard surface of the rink. This fool thought he could mock her? She'd been dealing with his type her whole life. He was just another of many pathetic fools who saw her pretty face and small size as symbols of weakness. Poor saps. She was quick to disabuse them of their chauvinistic ideas. Forget scoring; this fool needed a lesson!

"Hey, chickie," Petroya tried to bring her back to the game. "Pay attention!" He was completely open and in a good position to score.

"Chickie?!" Mallory practically screamed. She gave the puck a hard slap shot, sending it straight towards the goal post. Deke wasn't fast enough to block it and the puck ricocheted off the red bar and into the net. The four humans on the ice stared at the fuming duck. She skated right up to Petroya and sharply poked him in the chest. "If you have any other cute nicknames for me, I suggest you keep them to yourself." She skated away, waiting for further instructions from Coach Wilson.

"Petroya, Gene, back to the bench. Duke, Murray, you're up." Coach Wilson didn't waste any time in removing the players who had ignited Mallory's rage. He wanted to bring her off the ice too, but knew she was too worked up to sit quietly on the bench. If anyone said the wrong thing to her, a fight was sure to break out. Besides, he was interested to see how she and Duke would work together.

Duke watched Mallory skate in tight circles as she calmed herself. That temper was really going to get her in trouble if she didn't do something about it. Chuckling to himself, he skated up to her before taking his spot at the face off circle.

"I know a couple guys who'd be dead if looks could kill," he joked as he approached.

"Stupid humans," she muttered. She stopped circling and turned to face Duke, holding her stick parallel to the ice with both hands.

"You ready to show these guys how ducks play?"

Her eager smile was all the response he needed.

Duke was again at the face off circle, this time against Sisson. At the drop of the puck, he flipped it between his legs and back towards Mallory. She instantly took charge, skating towards the left face off circle.

Sisson quickly got in front of her and skated backwards, trying to block her forward progress. Mallory changed to a diagonal path and dropped the puck back to Duke, who was crossing in the opposite direction. Sisson had been more intent on watching Mallory than the puck and missed the pass.

The two ducks worked in tandem, passing straight to each other and perfectly avoiding their opponents at every turn. To the non-alien players, it looked like they weren't even telling each other where to go for the pass; they just knew where the other duck was going to be and sent the puck there.

It was a very short scrimmage as Mallory passed the puck back to Duke and he sent it between Dekes legs and into the net.

"Very nice!" Coach Wilson praised. These two were good. It was a shame they were only participating in the training camp for the NHL officials to observe them and not as recruits. He'd keep them for his team if it was at all possible. "Duke, Mallory, take a break. Bixler, Ciencin, you're on!"

Mallory snagged her water bottle on her way off the rink and took a big drink as she headed towards a table of snacks.

"Not bad, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart, L'Orange." For once, she didn't sound annoyed or angry; it was just a reminder that she didn't like the nickname. "You were pretty good too."

"I have my moments." He surveyed the fruit bowl, basket of bagels, pile of potato chip bags, and rows of water and Gatorade cups. "So, what'd that guy say that got you so worked up?" He took a cup of the bright blue liquid and studied it before taking a drink.

"He thought he could push me around," Mallory snorted in derision.

Duke inhaled a little of the liquid as he started laughing at that. The laugh quickly turned into a cough as he tried to expel the fluid from his airway. Mallory slapped him on the back a couple times, trying to help.

"Better?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Just the thought of someone thinkin' they can push you around," his eye twinkled at the idea and he chuckled a little more. "Guess he's never seen you fight."

"You haven't either." She smiled as she took a bite of an apple.

"No, but I've heard about you taking out those drones without a weapon. Anyone who can do that isn't someone to mess with."

"Hm." Her head tilted a little to the side as she studied him thoughtfully. She apparently came to some conclusion as she nodded to herself. "I wonder how long a break he was giving us."

"Dunno. We probably shouldn't wander off too far, just in case."

Mallory looked down at the other end of the rink and saw the goalies practicing.

"Want to go see what Wildwing's up to?" she suggested.

"Not a bad idea," he smiled deviously, "Sweetheart." The glare he received at the nickname was both expected and welcomed.


End file.
